


Freed

by liberateme



Series: all tied up [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Boyfriends, Kissing, M/M, Spoilers, bb-8 is the pushy hero we all need, bottom!poe, dom!finn, established versatile relationship, explicit - Freeform, i DON'T endorse unsafe sex though, jessika's a lil shit but we love her, rey has more air time, smutty smut as expected, the sequel is never as good pls forgive me, tiny bit of nipple play??, top!finn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberateme/pseuds/liberateme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being bound is something Finn starts, but Poe finishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freed

**Author's Note:**

> it's here!! thank u all for being so patient AND so lovely about the first fic, really didn't expect it to receive that much attention - u all were so nice, can't thank u guys enough  
> WARNING: the sequel doesn't tend to be as good as the first one, so please excuse me if u didn't think it was as great as the first one, i really tried hard to make it as good but kinda failed  
> as always, i hope u enjoy xxxx

Poe arrives in the hangar, geared up and ready to go. He’s holding a box full of tools to repair his baby – the X-wing fighter has been broken the past week or so, and Poe admits guiltily that he’s neglected it, distracted by the promising results that Finn, naked in his bunk, yields. But _today_ he’s shrugged of those distractions, mind clear, and has made a beeline for the hangar with the intention of getting some work done. All intentions dissolve in astonishing time when a Jessika Pava steps into his eye line, blocking him directly from his destination.

He grins; face betraying his initial irritation. A person like Jessika Pava – headstrong and persistent, but a damn good fighter all the same – is impossible to ignore. “Hey, Jessika,” he greets her, sunny. “Need something?” He asks, with a silent grimace. As much as he enjoys Jessika’s company and the joking demeanour she brings (she’s even rowdier once she’s downed a cometduster or two), he has serious work to do, and cannot afford to be sent off on chores to help a fellow pilot.

To his relief, she shakes her head, a teasing smile gracing her lips. “As much as I would love to watch you sweat while working hard for me” – he purses his lips and jokingly glowers at her, no match for the smile Jessika beams back at him – “that’s not what I’m here for.” He arches an eyebrow, gestures for her to continue. For a person with little patience and a short fuse, Jessika is uncharacteristically drawing her explanation out longer than Poe would expect. “I’m here because there’s – well, I mean. Okay, um.” Jessika pauses, pushes her tongue against her teeth. She’s stuttering – and a bag full of surprises it seems; Poe has never seen her stumble over her words so much.

Jessika Pava is sharp, wittier than him, quick with her words and quicker with her insults. She does not trip on her words. Not usually. “Are you and Finn a thing?” It finally rushes out, and Poe raises his eyebrows, tilts back his head and lifts his eyes to the high ceiling of the hangar – _ah_. “It’s okay if you are, I mean – none of us, nobody has a problem with… you know, your kind of people, er –“ She hesitates again, and twists her face into that of apology. “I’m doing a horrible job of this, _kriff_. Poe I’m sorry.”

Poe is tempted to feign insult, lead Jessika to believe he’s been gravely offended by her choice of words – “your kind of people” – but she’s suffering enough, cheeks flushing blotchy patches of red and he doesn’t want to prolong her suffering. “Yes, we’re a thing,” he says gently. “Is there any reason you want to bring this up now?” He’d have thought what he and Finn share is seemingly obvious now – they’ve been caught once or twice kissing frantically up against one of Poe’s X-wing fighters (he took great care so not to damage anything) and he holds Finn’s hand on a regular basis, against Finn’s weak, blushing protests. “We’ve kind of been a… thing for a while now.”

Jessika’s face darkens a deeper shade of red, and Poe realises then he’s _really_ in for it. “People, have, um. Heard things? Through the walls and stuff. Nothing big, just – noises?” Something in Jessika causes her to bristle, regain her characteristic confidence that Poe has seen on so many occasions. It edges into her voice, wavering slightly: “I didn’t realise you were so vocal, Dameron.” Poe groans, and buries his head in his hands. He’d been hoping he was lucky enough to avoid a conversation like this, with _any_ of his fellow pilots. Kegil included.

“Do I really have to discuss with you my bedroom habits?” He asks, voice choked with disbelief. “I would hope that’s private.”

Jessika grins, the red in her face drained, and nudges his shoulder with hers. “Come on, Poe. You know how quickly talk spreads around here, we’re a small base.” He doesn’t look up from his hands, slightly too mortified to catch her eye. “Just give me something? One _teeny_ tiny thing? Please?” Poe shoulders past her, the muscles in his right arm beginning to ache from carrying his tool kit for so long.

“I have work to do, Jessika.” He hopes the flat line in his voice delivers the message loud and clear. He reaches his desired destination, stood near to the bust shield booster on the fighter, and sets to work. He’s only just opened his tool kit, rifling through for a miracle that’ll somehow fix this busted booster, when a hand taps lightly on his shoulder. He whirls around.

“I’m just curious, who does who?” Jessika asks in his curiosity, eyes wide and childlike. He cannot believe she is pushing this conversation. “Or do you guys switch it up?” Poe snorts. That’s certainly one way to put it, makes the whole deed seem a lot less intense than it actually is. He thinks back to a few days ago: how the frayed rope rubbed his wrists raw, but no more intense than the deathly stare Finn fixed on him, his skin prickling with anticipation, and his cock hardening in his pants.

Finn fucked him raw there and then; the rope burning against his skin, the whole experience being very overwhelming and sort of surreal – but Poe only threw his head back and asked for more with a voice that was weak from feeling so much all at once, continually repeating the words _Please, please, please_. Poe remembers how loudly and how explosively he came, ‘til he thought he could come no more. His mouth twists into a smile at the memory, at the absurdity of it all. It was filthy and insane and wonderful.

So, yes. It is fair to say they “switch it up”. But Poe is not willing to reveal that kind of information to an inquisitive Jessika, with her teasing tone of a voice and sharp tongue. Kriff knows what she’d do with said information, gold in comparison to how much he tells her personally (which is next to nothing). “It’s none of your business,” he says shortly, and hates how boring he sounds. How _aged_. He’s thirty six, not eighty. “We do… what we need to do.”

He raises his eyes to see Jessika trembling with the effort not to laugh, arms crossed against her cheek, biting the inside of her cheek, and sighs. “Don’t you have something better to be doing? Maybe something productive?” Her dark eyes twinkle.

“Nah, got given the day off.” She replies, far too lightly that alerts alarm bells in Poe’s mind. “Guess I’m stuck here with you for the rest of the day.” Poe shakes his head, thinking, _No. Not at all_. She knocks his shoulder again, playful, and upturns her grin into a sulking frown. “Come on, Dameron, where’s your fun side gone? Sense of spirit? You’re much more fun when we’re in battle, you know.”

Poe spots what he’s been searching for during Jessika’s mild interrogations, and stretches down to draw out a servodriver from his tool kit. “Maybe so,” he answers her truthfully, turning the servodriver in his hands, studying it for any kind of damage, any scratch that may fault its utility. “But that’s in battle. We’re training to fight in a war.”

Jessika’s playfulness flickers, something more honest and genuine draping over here. She inclines her head towards him. “Yeah, you’re right.” She sounds a lot softer than before, all lively appearances disappeared. Then she scowls at him, face warped into that of something fierce. “I hate it when you’re right, Dameron.”

•

Poe knows what the terms mean, all the terms he’s collected from C-3PO’s gargantuan database – gathered in one embarrassing afternoon, when he was curious enough to seek out the droid, ask for a favour which involved him searching terms Poe was puzzled about. _Dominant, submissive, versatile_ came up regularly, followed by C-3PO’s in depth explanation in his sincere, robotic voice that had Poe flushing harder than he ever had. But he learned and understood, for his and Finn’s sake. And that – that was what was important.

He’s not sure how to class the relationship he and Finn have now. The dynamics have shifted, there have been noticeable changes – roles have reversed, there is some equality in the case of who fucks who, and Poe admits he hasn’t been entirely opposed to the matter, as he feared he would. If he’s transparently honest, the concept’s grown on him. He’s a people pleaser where Finn’s concerned – he likes tending to his needs, to care for him, in whatever means possible.

If that means being tied up by Finn’s eager but shaking hands, Poe is more than happy to oblige. If it means Finn fucking him hard and kissing him with too much teeth, then Poe will comply. He’s beginning to feel that he’d soar to the fringes of the galaxy, just to show Finn the view (if Finn had asked him). He’s stupidly, madly in love with an ex Stormtrooper who he likes to indulge a lot, and that often means fulfilling all of Finn’s wildest requests..

He’s growing accustomed to Finn fucking him twice a week or so – not that he’s _counting_ – and he can’t say with confidence he _doesn’t_ enjoy it. It’s different, it’s new; but Poe prides himself on being open minded, welcoming the new. He’s seen almost all of the galaxy nipping about in his X-wing fighter, he’s had to develop an open mind in order to cope with the galaxy’s diversity.

Finn forcing his arms behind his back, bound with rope, and fucking him ‘til they’re both sweating should be nothing in comparison, should be manageable.

Only.

Communication and boundaries established in a relationship are important, Poe knows that. He’s just unsure of where to draw the line, where it’s okay for either of them to say know. He fears they’re pushing this too far, hovering too close to the edge without glancing over at what faces them at the bottom. Last week Finn had confessed to him (in the privacy of Poe’s bunk, where it all seems to take place) that he’d wanted to gag Poe with the same cloth he uses to tie Poe’s wrists behind his back.

Poe’s fault lay in his hesitation, in a three second beat that Finn acknowledged, had kissed him and told him that it didn’t matter, what they had was perfect as it was, they didn’t need to change anything. But Poe knows Finn better than he realises, can read his disappointment easily. He had seen it cross over Finn’s face, seen it in how he chewed at his delicious lower lip and hadn’t said anything. Poe Dameron may be the Resistance’s best pilot but he is an idiot.

He didn’t kiss Finn back as he should, didn’t agree to Finn’s fantasy, because. Not because he didn’t want to, he did, and still does. But he’s thirty six, he’s older than Finn, and with his experience comes concern. He’s conscious of how far they’re taking this, how far they plan to go. Nothing’s been made clear, and to Poe, a level-headed pilot who works and visualises with strategy, it’s troubling.

Poe knows they need to talk, approach this Big Relationship Thing – so he tries, one Friday evening after he’s finished work in the hangar and Finn’s had tiring a day of training hand to hand combat with Briggs. Finn wants to unwind – as does Poe. His only difficulty is trying to form coherent sentences when Finn’s kissing at his neck. He has the worst timing for things.

“Finn,” he starts, prying his hands lightly off of Finn’s arse, which he’s been gripping for the past five minutes during their heavy make out session. It’s a loss which he regards with sadness, but he’s determined to be the one to step up and talk about this Big Relationship Thing. He’s fought in more battles than he can count; he can talk to his boyfriend about boundaries, and where they stand.

But Finn persists, fingers clamped down on his forearm (Poe knows Finn’s got an obsessions with his arms and muscles), continuing to press butterfly kisses along the length of his neck and jaw line. “ _Finn_ ,” Poe groans, feeling the first flickers of heat along his groin. He wills himself to not get hard. “Finn. I need to – _we_ need to talk.”

“Talk?” Finn asks, voice muffled, still absorbed in making his mark on Poe’s neck. He’s delicious, and while Poe wants nothing more than to grip and knead at his arse and see where the night takes them, he’s got to remain strong in the face of temptation. “Talk about what?”

“About” – Poe rocks back, is overcome with how good Finn’s mouth feels on his neck, but remains steadfast – “About boundaries. And stuff,” he adds hastily, when Finn stops in favour of raising a brow at him, intrigued. “Not that I don’t love what we’re doing and love you, but. I need to know where we’re going with this. And how far. Where we should stop.”

Finn rocks back, too, on his lap, awards him with A Look that has Poe wanting to scramble to save his arse, in case his boyfriend pins him as an old man who thinks too much. “Poe Dameron, are you having a relationship talk with me?” Poe flushes, but is unable to say anything by Finn’s smoothly cutting in: “Not that I love this, like. I’ve never seen you so attentive before. It’s kind of hot.” He hastily kisses him, surprising Poe with how heated it is. “But. Boundaries? What do you mean by that?”

Poe’s hands glide down to his thighs, warm and solid on him, squeezes them once. “Like when we fuck,” he explains, hating how coarse it sounds. “Have sex,” he corrects hurriedly. “I’m fine with whatever you want to do, buddy, it’s great – well, more than great, I’m pretty damn lucky – but I don’t know where to stop. When we should stop. And that scares me a bit.”

Finn grins, causing the tension in Poe’s shoulders to leave him in an exhale. “You’re saying you want… a safeword?” He asks slowly, as if to be sure he’s read Poe properly. Poe racks his brains, trying to trace his memory back to his eventful exploration of C-3PO’s database, searching for the term safeword. Sensing Poe is out of his depth, Finn aids him: “A word you use that signals when you want to stop, when things need to.”

Poe’s amazed by Finn’s stretch of knowledge, so caught up in his awe that he almost misses Finn’s endeared smile. “What?” He asks, feeling lost. “What’re you smiling at?” _Not that I mind_ , he adds silently.

“You. You’re cute,” Finn says pointedly, and kisses him, quick, before Poe can ask further questions. He adjusts himself on Poe’s lap, snakes his arms around Poe’s neck. “So. Safeword?”

“Safeword.” Poe answers with a mirroring grin, and meets Finn’s welcoming mouth, plush against his. All in all, Poe counts it as an achievement. That, and he’s got an amazing boyfriend who kisses pretty well. He should do. Poe has taught him all the tricks of the trade. Poe smiles against Finn’s mouth, and kisses him ‘til Finn’s forgotten his own name, and his toes are curling in his socks.

•

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Poe states in his unprecedented belief towards BB-8, who remains vigilant, whirs and knocks against his legs. “Alright, alright! I get it, I get it.” He holds his hands up in defence – which should, in all rights, look ridiculous, a man of his height bowing to a droid less than a metre. But BB-8 is pretty terrifying when he wants to be, and now – with all his insistence and rolling over Poe’s feet, he is menacing. Forget Kylo Ren, BB-8 should be the new face of First Order. Poe reckons he’d really suit a role in being foreboding and dark, despite his size.

[Designation: Poe-Friend will talk to Designation: Friend-Rey,] BB-8 insists, and makes a series of whirring noises that, if Poe could understand droid speak better, he’d think were a series of threats. [He must.]

Poe is unfamiliar to BB-8’s sudden outburst of insistence, demanding in clicks that he _must_ talk to Rey. Or, Friend-Rey in BB-8’s case. Poe doesn’t often understand BB-8 – not properly, anyway – but he trusts him. And he tends to have an air of knowledge about matters Poe struggles with. He suspects BB-8 knows about his deal with Finn, but he can’t connect Rey’s involvement in all of this. He supposes he will when he gets there.

“Hey, hey!” Poe exclaims at BB-8 continually knocking into the backs of his kneecaps as a prompt to move faster. “What’s the hurry, buddy?”

[Friend-Rey has training with Designation: Master-Luke soon. Friend-Poe will miss her if he doesn’t hurry.]

Poe resists the urge to roll his eyes at the droid’s unwarranted concern, and walks faster. That seems to satisfy BB-8, who rolls alongside him in silence for the rest of the journey. He stops by Rey’s bunk (slightly more spacious than his – he guesses it’s do with her being a Jedi Knight in training, and him a lowlier pilot. He’s not complaining), turns to glance at BB-8, who remains motionless and silent beside him. “Oh, so you’re not going to talk now? Great,” he sighs, and raps his knuckle against the door.

There’s a scuffle, the loud clang of something falling down, a shout behind the door – “Hold on a minute!” – and it’s opening, a very flushed and flustered Rey gripping the doorframe, smiling at him sheepishly. “Poe. What can I do you for?” She’s half dressed in her Jedi attire – her beige cloth robe is half-hanging off her shoulder, and her hair’s stuck out in clumps.

“Busy?” Poe asks, stifling his laugh. Rey’s got a very tight schedule now, he knows, her work is important – he doesn’t want to laugh at her in her hectic state, it’d be cruel. Rey sighs, heavy, and props one arm against her hip, her other hand still gripping the doorframe.

“Go on,” she says, urging him. “Laugh. I know you want to. I look like a mess.” He shakes his head, sinking his teeth into the skin of his cheek. It stings, and the urge to laugh dissipates. “Well. At least you’re kind,” she says as an afterthought, more to herself.

[Friend-Rey looks lovely,] buzzes BB-8, and Rey beams at him.

“Thank you, BB-8!” From beyond her shoulder, Poe spies her bunk, cluttered with her things; half-on and half-off their shelves, askew. He feels a pang of sympathy. Rey really is busy. Overworked, he thinks, and then reprimands himself. He knows little about the Force, he doesn’t have the right whether to decide Master Luke’s methods are right or wrong. Rey demands his attention back to her, shouldering off the view of bunk and saying, “So. What do you need?”

Poe levels her gaze for a moment, and decides to answer honestly. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “BB-8 brought me here, insisted we talk” – he breaks off to stare at the droid, who chirps his approval at him – “and didn’t give me a subject matter,” he finishes, joking. “So I don’t really know why I’m here.”

[Friend-Poe and Designation: Friend-Finn are having trouble with their relationship,] beeps BB-8. Rey lifts her head in understanding, smiles a small smile at Poe. Poe is less convinced.

“What do you know about relationships?” He asks, bewildered. “You’re a dr – ow!” He jumps away as BB-8 shocks him. “Ow,” he repeats, feeling a little sorry for himself, rubs over his bare ankle, the victim of BB-8’s ruthlessness. He supposes he should know better. Rey smiles fondly at BB-8. Poe glowers at her a bit. “A droid who apparently knows about what’s going on between Finn and I,” he corrects himself, listens to BB-8 click in agreement.

[Friend-Rey has advice,] it promises, rolls towards to (gently, this time) nudge against the backs of Poe’s calves. He gives Rey a pleading look, and Rey obliges (to his gratitude). She steps back, holds the door a crack open, and gestures him in. He takes advantage quickly, should she change her mind, and steps inside.

[Good. Friend-Poe and Friend-Rey will talk now,] BB-8 whirs, sounding pleased, and trundles away. Rey looks to Poe for explanation; he shrugs.

 

Poe’s conversation with Rey starts off slow, stilted. He doesn’t know how to approach the topic, tries getting straight to the point, but stumbles, still figuring out how to phrase the words _My boyfriend likes fucking me hard and I just want to please him as much as I can but I’m stuck on how to switch things up_ – and he really, really hates how Jessika’s teasing phrase has stuck in his head.

He has the impression that Rey is open minded, non-judgemental – likes to make her friends feel secure, so he can’t pin down the reason why he’s struggling so much, stuttering. Poe Dameron doesn’t stutter. At that thought, he composes himself. Straightens his back and clears his throat. Rey sits there in quiet, and he realises there and then why he likes her so much. She doesn’t press people, has the kind of a patience he, a quick-thinking, snappish pilot could never possess. But he admires it.

Poe finally gets out, “Finn likes to dominate me,” to Rey’s raised eyebrows. But she doesn’t say anything, so he continues, without meeting her eyes. “And I – I love him, I’d do anything for him. I just don’t know what to do,” he says with emphasis, prays Rey will receive his message. Lucky for him, she nods, slow. There’s no sign of judgement written across her face, nothing to suggest her disgust.

There’s silence – apprehensive, concerning – just Poe and Rey sat on her bed, Rey sat with her legs crossed underneath her, feet bare. Her face seems considering. Then: “Maybe you should try handcuffs.” He splutters, recollects himself and turns to her.

“Sorry – what?”

“I said,” she repeats with patience, “maybe you should try handcuffs? Something I’ve heard.” She shrugs her thin shoulders, the picture of nonchalance. “If that’s what you’re looking for.”

Poe’s speechless. He thinks he might benefit from not following BB-8’s instruction, all of the time. It would save him time and dignity. But – but maybe he should, because Rey’s given him an idea that’s never occurred to him before. _Handcuffs_. Finn could handcuff him to the bed, have his way with him, as rough as he likes. (And Poe concludes he really needs to spend less time thinking up these schemes, and more time focusing on his piloting. His coordination skills need improvement.)

“Thanks, Rey. You’ve been a great help,” he says, and starts to get up, but pauses when Rey touches his arm, stops him.

Her dark eyes glitter, which sparks up concern in his mind. “Where do you think you’re going?” He’s falters, enough time for Rey to interject smoothly: “I’ve done you a favour, now you do me one.” She smiles, all sharp teeth that don’t suit her soft look, and Poe knows he’s really in for it now.

Which leads to Poe asking (on Rey’s behalf) a dashing young pilot – Joth something – if he’d like to catch a drink with Rey. Rey instructed him to include _Gives us the chance to get to know one another better_ , but Poe thinks subtlety is best, and asks him that same afternoon, with new confidence he’s gained from Rey’s brilliant idea, direct and straight to the point. Joth splutters – Poe is selfishly relieved to see he isn’t the only one around here who has that bad habit – but accepts, nods his head frantically before excusing himself, flustered.

Poe grins, watching his figure disappear, round a corner and makes a mental note to tell Rey she needs to give the poor boys a chance at least.

•

It’s Friday again – the only time where Poe and Finn are both free, with Finn’s training and Poe’s piloting tending to coincide too many times for Poe’s liking. _Everything seems to happen on a goddamn Friday_ , Poe thinks, and adds, _And always in the middle of our make out sessions_. True to his thought, Finn’s kissing him, a touch more eager tonight, like he has a sixth sense for when Poe has something planned. Something _big_.

He can’t know what Poe has in store, he was very secretive about purchasing the handcuffs – albeit, it meant he bought them from a shifty looking arms dealer who had a score to settle with a local enemy, but Poe didn’t like to concern himself in what was none of his business. That, and the guy appeared to have (a no doubt stolen) lightsaber tucked in his back pocket, and prepared to wield it, should the opportunity present itself. He wasn’t keen on angering the guy, paid the price and left quickly.

Poe’s had the handcuffs hidden away since. Three days, to be exact. Four since he’d spoken with Rey and snagged her a date with a cute, roguish looking pilot – he hears the date went swimmingly. (Swimmingly for a woman who’s destined to make a name for herself as an infamous Jedi Knight, that is.) He hasn’t presented them to Finn yet, still awaiting the perfect time. He’s happy to make out languidly for now, sneak his fingertips past Finn’s waistband; but nothing beyond that.

As it turns out, the perfect time never comes – but Poe almost does. Finn grows impatient, settles his hands on Poe’s broad shoulders and grinds down with purpose. At sudden, delicious friction, Poe’s cock jumps in his pants. He would chastise himself for his thirteen year old keenness, but Finn’s grinding his arse directly over where Poe’s cock is, and had been happily being half-hard from making out – nothing more. Finn seems to have other plans.

“Finn, wait, Jesus –“ Poe says, voice rough, and clamps his eyes shut, wills himself not to come in his pants like a teenager. Finn misunderstands and stops abruptly, stares at him with sad, sorry eyes. “Not that this isn’t pretty great,” he explains in a rush, before Finn can misread him and get upset, “but I’ve got something to show you.” And kisses him. Finn melts into his mouth, for which he’s relieved. “I think you’ll like it, soldier.”

Just like that, Finn becomes childlike in his excitement, eyes bright and unyielding. “What is it?” He asks, fulfilling his role as a child in his inability to wait. Poe laughs him, shushes him and tells him to wait. His nerves are all tangled up in a tight ball, and his heart’s beating strong red blood through his veins; but he’s sure Finn will love his gift – adore it, even, if he knows Finn as well as he thinks.

With steady hands that do not betray his bundled up ball of nerves, Poe presents the set of handcuffs to Finn with spread out palms, and watches Finn’s face turn animated, the corners of his mouth curl up into an excited smile. “You… bought me this?” Finn asks, after having accepted the handcuffs, turning them over in his hands in fascination. Poe nods, sheepish turned shy. He’s really anxious for Finn to like them, hopes his gift is enough.

“Wow,” Finn breathes, finally setting them down with care next to the two of them, and turns to Poe. Poe rubs the sides of Finn’s waist with his thumb, bites back whatever excuse is bubbling up in his throat, and waits for Finn to talk for himself. “I – I love it, thank you.” He kisses him. “I can’t believe you thought of something like this,” he admits, resting his forehead against Poe’s.

Poe shrugs, modest. “Why not, soldier? You like fucking me, and I like… getting fucked.” Finn kisses him so hard then, they both almost forget about the handcuffs. Almost. Poe’s mind is sharp, clear when he is thinking in strategic, usually in battle – but Poe has a plan, and his sharp-thinking mind does not let him forget it. During another impromptu heavy make out session, Poe inches his fingers towards the handcuffs, so slight Finn does not see him.

Finn’s too busy biting on his lower lip in that attentive way of his that always gets Poe’s dick hard.

In one, fell swoop, Poe picks up the handcuffs and chains his right hand to the bedpost of his bunk. Anyone would be a fool not to hear the clatter it makes. Finn jerks up, tearing his mouth from Poe. (Poe mourns the loss.) “Did you just –“ He pauses, gathering himself. His eyes sweep over Poe’s right hand, dangling awkwardly from where it is handcuffed to the bunk. “ – Handcuff yourself to the bed?”

Poe grins. Game time. With his free hand, he gently pushes Finn off his lap. A confused Finn slips off, but waits expectantly for explanation. When it does not come, he opens his mouth and Poe interjects smoothly: “Wait and see.” He straddles Finn easily, leaves a flaming trail with his stubble scraping against the skin of Finn’s neck. “Here’s what I think we should do,” he murmurs, low into Finn’s ear. Finn shivers but adjusts, taking hold of the juts of Poe’s hipbones. “I think I should ride you, handcuffed like this, and then you fuck me when you’re ready. Sound good?”

“God yeah,” Finn answers, and presses the pad of his thumbs into Poe’s hipbones hard enough to bruise him. Poe doesn’t mind too much. His mind is on riding Finn well. For someone so eager and so new to all of this, Finn really takes his time undressing Poe. Poe’s impatient to be fucked by the time he is done, squirming but biting back his demanding words – _Come on, Finn; Finn just get on with it and fuck me_ – he wants to be kind.

When Finn brushes his thumbs over Poe’s nipples, a kind of sharp electric shock jolts his body. Finn furrows his brow, thinking, and decides to experiment. Poe braces one hand on Finn’s broad shoulders, quivering with pleasure, and lets him play with his nipples ‘til his cock’s wet and hard in his pants. It’s obvious, too, how his boxers are tented – but Finn doesn’t seem to mind. Poe flushes a little from the great attention Finn is giving him, but he doesn’t say anything.

Poe’s fingers dig into the muscles in Finn’s shoulders when Finn lowers his head to take one of Poe’s nipples in his mouth, bites his lip ‘til it almost splits and bleeds. His breathing’s elevated and his chest is heaving, but there is no other sound in the room. Poe’s body jolts for a second time when Finn’s teeth brush over the surface of his nipple, pain turned pleasure. “Finn,” he finally says, breaking his silence, voice strained. “Finn, please.”

He’s not sure what he’s asking for but Finn understands, seems to, and sheds off his clothes down to his boxers. Poe’s never been this – _this_ kind of close to Finn, this intimate. He can feel Finn’s hard cock pressing into his bare thigh, and it’s – it’s different. He doesn’t know what to make of it. There’s a time for every different kind of experience, he supposes.

It all heats up very quickly when Finn, with unshaking fingers, draws down his boxers and his cock springs out, hard and curved and glistening with pre-cum. Poe’s mouth… well, Poe’s mouth waters. He’s only blown Finn a couple of times, the norm tending to be Finn taking Poe into his mouth – something he’s admitted he really likes, and Poe is happy to please him – so blowing Finn is still very new to Poe. But he aims to please.

Poe ducks his head down, and takes Finn into his mouth. He is awarded with a sharp intake of air that he hears Finn sucks in, Finn’s fingers clenching and unclenching with the loss of what to do (Poe would quite like them in his hair, but he doesn’t have the voice to say so).

And he strives to give Finn the best blow job he’s ever had. He sucks Finn’s cock in, cheeks framed by scruff hollowed in a way he knows must look indecent – going by the groan Finn releases when he lifts his eyes to meet his boyfriend’s, dark eyes and silk red throat watering.

He pays great attention to the small, untouched spots of Finn – flattens his tongue against the underside of Finn’s length; teases the tip of his tongue against the slit of the cock’s head; even goes as far as to welcome one of Finn’s balls into his warm, wet mouth, at which Finn groans appreciatively. Poe’s cock throbs. He’s dizzingly hard listening to each and every one of Finn’s quiet, gorgeous sounds, and he aches to do something about it – but this is about Finn, always has been, so Poe ignores his own desires and sets to choking his mouth with Finn’s cock.

Finn’s cock head bumps against the back of Poe’s throat, and he splutters, throat clenching around Finn’s cock. He’s filled with a sense of euphoria never felt before, a sense that spurs him on, bobbing his head, mouth wrapped tightly around Finn’s cock. His hand ventures back to Finn’s balls – which he’s discovered are wonderfully and highly sensitive – playing with them as he sucks at Finn like he tastes of sugar.

His shoulder feels like it’s on fire, fresh pain rolling through him in waves at this new angle – with one shackled to his bunk, the other dug into Finn’s thigh with blunt fingernails, the stretch of his muscles is nearly unbearably painful. That, and the cool metal cutting into his wrist. But none of that matters, is blurred out with the sensation of Finn pulsing in his mouth, pre cum pooling against the slope of his pink tongue.

While he’s sucking at Finn’s cock, testing the strength of himself against his gag reflex, Poe has an idea. A ridiculous, crazy idea. That… might work. That could be great, if he could pull it off. He takes Finn’s cock out of his mouth, quickly, just to order Finn in a hoarse voice: “Finn, put your fingers in your mouth.” Obediently, Finn does so, laps at the thickness of his fingers. “Then – _kriff_ – then put them – “ struggling for words, Poe shows him what he is unable to say.

He guides Finn’s fingers with his free hand past the waistband of his boxers, brushing past the small of his back, to his pink opening. Finn’s eyes widen, for a flicker of moment, but he teases at Poe’s opening, circles a finger around his rim. Satisfied with how things are going, Poe ducks back down and gets back to blowing Finn. “Oh my god Poe.” Finn says nothing past that, but Poe senses his struggle to concentrate with a mouth working on his cock. (He takes shameful pride in that.)

The first push of Finn’s fingertip into him burns like hell as it always does; Poe’s mouth stills around the head of Finn’s cock in his brief pain. Finn sympathises, consoling Poe with rubs against his spine that do nothing but make his body shiver, and his cock leak. It’s more of a stretch than Poe anticipates, so his stilled movement around Finn lasts longer than he expects it to, but he goes straight back to suckling at Finn the moment the burn blurs into something more pleasurable.

During a five minute period in which Poe starts, stops, starts and stops his blow job (to prevent Finn from finishing early), Finn works three fingers into him expertly, a stretch that soon becomes delicious, his arm tucked into Poe’s boxers. His technique has improved since his first time fingering Poe (for which Poe is very grateful), a lot smoother, more confident in his movements. More precise.

“Never fails to amaze me,” Finn mutters, fascinated by how his fingers sink inside. Poe’s only half-listening, distracted by how Finn is twisting his fingers, only aiding his hard cock in hurting more. “That’s kind of amazing.”

“Mmph,” Poe agrees, muffled for known reasons, laving his tongue over Finn adoringly. Finn laughs, short – but his laughter dies in his throat when he enters a fourth finger into Poe, and Poe’s body accepts it in, almost sucks it in greedily. Poe groans, arches his spine, and pushes back against Finn’s fingers. It feels sinfully good, and Poe feels a little sinful, pleading with Finn in his debauched state. He feels filthy, in fact, pushing back against Finn’s talented digits, all the while handcuffed to his bed and sucking Finn off.

It has to be said, multitasking isn’t easy. When Finn expertly discovers Poe’s prostate, two fingers curled inside him, two probing – Poe properly _moans_. Pulls himself off Finn’s cock just to _breathe_ , panting his swelled up chest against Finn, dropping his head down onto Finn’s shoulder. “You alright?” He hears, noise white noise against his beating heart. He nods, but doesn’t move. “Need a break?” Finn asks, and lightly drags his fingers over Poe’s prostate again.

Poe’s body is overtook with the first flood of white hot pleasures, his abdomen muscles held tight. “ _Kriffing hell_ , Finn,” he groans, but angles himself so Finn’s fingers are persistently prodding against his prostate, greedily allowing his body to pulse in pleasure. He thinks Finn notices, but doesn’t say anything about it, only increases the pressure of his fingers.

Poe’s mouth aches, empty without Finn’s cock, so he lowers himself down to take it back in his mouth – but is stopped, a hand weaved into his hair tugging him up. Poe’s eyelids flutter shut, at the feeling of his scalp being tugged. He’s in bliss. “You can fuck me now,” Finn says, short, and removes his fingers. Poe’s opening flutters around nothing.

It’s hot when Finn undresses fully, even hotter when he hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of Poe’s boxers, and pulls them down swiftly. The air is cool on Poe’s heated skin. He needs help sinking himself onto Finn’s cock, his free hand braced on Finn’s shoulder, his fingertips turning white from pressure – Finn understands, and helps, gripping the undersides of Poe’s thighs, positioning him over his slicked dick (all thanks to Poe’s skilled mouth).

As Poe lowers himself down, his mouth falls open in pleasurable pain at the stretch that has been awaiting him – he knows from experience Finn’s cock is considerably thicker than his fingers, but can never prepare himself for how much he has to adjust, how much he has to open himself up around Finn in order for Finn to properly sheath himself inside. Finn waits for him to adjust, warm palms spread flat on his thighs, and presses butterfly kisses along the stretch of Poe’s neck, in a brief moment of sweetness that doesn’t suit the pure filth of the situation.

Poe settles quickly in his seat – having been fucked weekly by Finn, his body has grown accustomed to Finn’s considerable size and curved shape – and feels Finn sense his readiness, shudder in heightened anticipation. His hands tighten on Poe’s thighs and in response, Poe clenches around him, just to see Finn choke on his own air. “You’re really killing me here, pilot,” Finn admits, and Poe kisses his apology.

They kiss ‘til their mouths turn blue, and Poe is impatient to be fucked properly – he reckons Finn seconds his thought.

He begins slow.

Raising himself up just so slightly, before bearing himself back down.

Raising.

And lowering.

But Finn feels unbelievably good inside of him, and Poe is patient in no aspects of his life. He begins to pick up pace, begins to work around the initial awkwardness of his hand chained to his bunk, gets a feeling for Finn angled inside him, hard and throbbing and altogether _great_.

Poe works himself into a rhythm; falling into something that feels more natural, rolling his hips around in a delicious circle, fucking himself up and down Finn’s hard cock, back arched. He experiments with speed: bouncing up and down Finn’s cock at a fast, furious pace – before stilling his movements, much to Finn’s aggravation, slowing his body on Finn’s cock. Once or twice Finn groans, bites down on Poe’s collarbone – but doesn’t voice his complaint.

Finn feels taut underneath him, like his whole body is tightening with the effort not to come, and that. That makes Poe feel empowered, if he’s honest. This evening is about Finn being in charge, Finn being the one to fuck a handcuffed Poe, make him come just from his cock – but riding Finn’s cock is something else, something that tips the balance of power in Poe’s favour.

That balance completely tips the other way when Finn raises his hips to meet Poe on his way down, thrusts his cock up in a unexpectedly violent way that has Poe’s body shaking from the pure force of it, has his fingers digging into the meat of Finn’s shoulder, and has his mouth remaining open in a silent moan that never escapes him.

Poe’s hand winds around Finn’s neck, tugs him in for a kiss that’s half-tongue, half-teeth, as Finn fucks up hard and deep into him, and Poe keeps his knees tight against Finn’s sides, straddling him; doesn’t move a bit. (He can’t move too much, with his hand ‘cuffed anyway.) Finn finds his prostate in no time, a direct thrust that Poe clenches around, moans shamelessly at, and lets his body be set alight by the fire in his veins Finn fucking him elicits. He claws at Finn’s arms, grappling for something to grip onto.

Finn continues to fuck him hard, doesn’t stop for air or to kiss Poe sweetly; just curls his hands around Poe’s thighs, holding him into position, and fucks him raw. When Finn hits Poe’s prostate again, Poe cries out, voice hoarse, and shakes around him. He feels himself spiking towards his release, all hot and sweating and open, just for Finn. He tries to tell him, but is interrupted by another thrust that hits its target, pressing against Poe’s bundle of nerves. It’s all too much for Poe Dameron, pilot taken apart and trembling on Finn’s cock.

“Finn, I – I – “ Poe gets out, gasping, and finishes from Finn’s cock solely, wrapping his hand around the cold metal of the handcuff, something to hold on as he comes, cum spurting out of his cockhead onto Poe’s outstretched hand. Finn loses it there and then, erratically thrusting up into Poe’s spent body, teeth dug white into his fat bottom lip, coming in strips of white inside of Poe.

The two of them are still for a few moments, catching their breath – Poe drapes his free arm over Finn’s left shoulder, and rests his forehead against the crook of Finn’s neck. He is the first to speak, slicing through the silence: “That was… interesting.” When Finn stares at him with shocked, hurt eyes, he laughs, and kisses his boyfriend’s upset away. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, you idiot. It was just eye opening.” Finn accepts that, and captures his mouth back.

“It was great, you mean,” Finn corrects. They kiss ‘til Poe feels his soft cock stir, and pulls away, not keen on two orgasms in one evening, in his sensitive state. (Maybe that can be something for another day.) The both of them almost forget about Poe handcuffed – but when Poe moves to get up off Finn’s lap, he’s stopped short, arm pulled violently back by the handcuff’s restraints.

Finn laughs into Poe’s mouth at his huff, his face pulled into something sulky.

•

Poe returns to the hangar bright and early the next morning. He’s smoothed his appearance over, orange and white uniform crisp, free of crinkles – hoping that his composure won’t raise questions, leaving no traces of last night’s venture’s clinging to him. He’s even taken the care to cover up the fiercely protective blue-and-purple love bite Finn gave him, claiming Poe as his.

He stifles his sigh at the sight of Jessika, leant against an X-wing fighter with a coy smirk, one eyebrow arched, one hand on her jutting hip. As he nears, he raises his hands in defence, surrendering to any interrogation she is bound to put him under. “Alright,” he says with an underlying exhale, defeated. “Go for it. What do you want to know?”

Jessika taps against her mouth with a finger, considering his proposition. Just as he’s beginning to regret his offer, she comes out with: “How’d the handcuffs thing go?” Poe shudders a sigh at Jessika’s tone, light and airy, her eyes dancing, but can’t remain stone faced in the face of Jessika Pava, her good mood infectious.

(He does makes a mental note to seek out Rey later, though. She has a lot to answer to.)

**Author's Note:**

> while i'm done w this series, i have a fic or two planned -- if u want to see something from me just let me know down below, i read all comments!!


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